Hello! How are you?

(Before or after the deal with the devil ordeal. Which ever you prefer!)

--E--

After a long day, one busy, full of tasks, and rewarding, a pair of satisfied cups sit on a stone wall. One around the Root Pack's garden. Mugman guzzles sarsaparilla from his head, a bundle of lollipops in hand, while Cuphead sucks on a swirly pop and flips through trading cards. Feet swinging like butterfly carasalissises. Today, they wear overalls. Stained with buttons coming undone.

Cuphead finishes his candy, turning to the other. "Pal, if I give you a cartoon card, could ya gimme another lolly?"

"Those cards were from Porkrind's bargain bin, so it can't be that good. Not worth it."

"C'mon, there's some neat ones here."

"Nah."

While Cuphead looks through the deck for a worthy card to prove him wrong, Mug burps. "Too much pop!"

"No such thing." Cuphead finds rows of cartoon cards, but since it was from Porkrind's it has mix cards, like a martini recipe on a notecard or a ruined picture of a car. But he doesn't care. The pack of cards were two bits, so it was a steal of a deal. How could he not get it? He couldn't spend the leftover two bits on anymore soda or candy so why not cards?

If only they could live like this everyday.

"Y'know, if we getta get odd jobs like this everyday," Cuphead says, licking his fingers and flips, "we'd make it bigger than the devil ever was!"

"We'd get sarsaparilla everyday." Mugman muses, drinking more.

"We'd get sweet stuff!"

"Yeah, but I can't understand why findin' works s'hard."

"Dunno, but Pa says it has somethin' to do with a depression or something."

"Mkay then."

They don't know the time, but they know they're fine. Plenty of time to still do chores once they get home. They promised they would, and if they want any dessert later tonight they will. It's supposed to be fritters and ice cream tonight.

Mugman finishes his third lollypop, moving back to his soda when the brother holds up a cartoon card of a famous character (which none of them recognized).

"How's this one?"

"Why would I wanna have a picture of a mouse?"

"Good point... what about this one?"

"Why would I want one of a rabbit?"

"Fine, fine... This one?"

"I don't think Pa'd want us to have that one."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Pa doesn't like demons." Mugman takes it, throwing it behind the wall. It flutters down. "There."

"Gosh, Mugsy, don't be a sippy cup."

"Oh shush up, I'm not."

"Yeah ya are! You don't even say shuddup."

"'Cause that's a bad word."

"No it's not!"

To make it up, Mugman gave a lollipop away to "cover the cost" of that lost card, but he still had three left for later. He stuff it in his pants, while Cuphead works on finding another card to trade for a butterscotch lolly.

"How's this?" He holds up a used lottery ticket. It didn't win anything when it was scratched.

"No way."

"Oh, hey," Cup perks up at a small row of fresh scratch cards he found, "wanna scratch a few for a lolly?"

At the thought of pre-bought chances to win makes Mugman put his straw back and nod, "That's a deal I cannot refuse!"

"There we go! I knew my brother had some fun in him."

"Oh shush up."

With used lollipop sticks, they scratch the cards. Purple flaking off the squares. They knew how to use one properly since Elder Kettle sometimes gets gifted cards for his birthday. Normally from his bingo buddies. He's told the boys it's fine to scratch as long as you don't buy too many at once, or in this case, at all. One time they won five coins, which Kettle used to get them a toy, donuts, and new fountain pens for himself.

"Get anything yet?" Mug asks, "You're always lucky, so maybe you could get one."

Cup's always been called a good luck charm. "How much d'you think I'll win then?"

"At least five coins, like last time."

"That'd be enough to get soda for a month!"

They scratch away.

"No, no, let's think bigger," Cuphead shoots his last scratch card over his head, letting the sun soak it with increased luck, "instead of just soda and stuff... if we won, like, ten coins we'd be able to buy our own radio! One just for use!"

"D'you mean the nice one from the city shops?"

"Yep, but I forgot which store has it."

He scratches away. Taking the chance to choose the left square, blowing away the purple away, Cup and Mug press foreheads together and read.

"...Is that good?"

Cuphead couldn't believe his eyes, "No."

"Aw."

He throws the card away, "I thought I had it this time!"

"Well, I still got a card left," Mug says, scratching, "wouldn't it be neato if we won something though?"

"Yeah, yeah... what'd ya get?" Cup says nonchalantly.

The sun gets brighter as Mugman opens his mouth, "Dunno, but I think it's good..."

"Lemme see."

The ticket promises a hundred coin prize, but it's not what Mug won. A bold thirty shines under the mess of purple dust. They look at each other, an avalanche of coins flood their minds. A cash register.

Mug beams, "Hot dawg! This is great!"

"No way..."

"Radio and soda here we come! And-and maybe trips to the toy store!"

"But-but, I..." Shedding his pride and luck that was supposed to win something, Cuphead slaps the brother's back. "Good job!"

The sun inches down the horizon, but the land still glows and the few street lamps don't flicker on until later. They both know they have to cash it in at the local lottery, which is a small, local one the devil doesn't own. That's how you get the prize in the first place. Yet what is the time and place for this jackpot collecting?

"D'you know the time?"

"Nah," Cup says, jumping over the garden wall, "don't gotta wristwatch."

Mugman follows him, jumping too, but spills the last of his soda on the tulips as he runs to catch up. Sarsaparilla watering the flower garden, then the two meet face to face with three oversized vegetables.

"Evenin', boys," Moe Tato grunts, picking tomatoes and chucking them in baskets, "lookin' for another job? Wanna do me a favor real fast? I got a crate of tomatoes that needa get to the shops in town. I'll pay ya three bits."

"No, we wanna know the time and where to cash this in at." Cuphead says, pointing to the ticket in Mug's hands.

Psycarrot checks his watch, (a rustic leather watch caked with dirt and tomato guts), "It's four forty-nine, but I do not think you can get your money today. It closes at five." He says with a thick indian accent. Weepy nods.

Mugman turns to Cup, "We can just get it tomorrow, right?"

"I'd think so..." But then again, he thinks, how old is that ticket? It's from Porkrind so it must be ancient. "Actually, when does the expiration end?"

"Um... it ends on the upcoming thirteenth."

Weepy sniffs, "Isn't the tomato order on the thirteenth."

"Yep," Moe says, "that's today."

--E--

Dust clouds spore across the dirt road, bursting into the air as the brothers bolt across the countryside and into the carnival. Dodging around Beppi the Clown and the barber quartet.

"What where ya going!" The Clown frowns.

"Sorry!"

It takes a while to navigate around the carnival, missing people, and staying together. If only the annoyed strangers would understand the reason behind the rush. There's thirty coins on the line, after all.

Cuphead sees a bulky wall clock for the circus performers to read off of. "Muggy..." He breathes in sharp, "it's three minutes 'til five!"

For the first time in a while, Mugman wants to curse. "Oh crab apples!"

Stumbling over their boots, not caring about chipping porcelain knees or elbows, they plow through mobs of people. They have to make it to the city, find the lottery booth, and catch the owner before he closes up shop. But will they make it? This is life and death. Radio and no radio. A year's worth of sodapop and not.

City folk aren't much different. They frown at them, mumble questions about who raised them, yet most of them knew them and didn't care.

"Cup, over there!" Mug points towards a small shop with lottery tickets and scratch tickets painted in fat, gold letters on the window. They, nearly ramming into an automobile, hustle into the store.

They didn't notice the dust, the small bar in the corner, the few holes in the floorboards, or the singing silverware playing poker. Instead, they zip over to the closest thing: the counter, the one with glass cases and newly printed lottery tickets.

"We'd like to cash this in please!"

He, the owner, is a tape recorder in his fifties. Wiping the glass cases with lemon and vinegar cleaner and looking up from his work. "Hm? Whazzat?"

The cups take in another gulp of air, "We have a winning ticket!" Mugman slaps the piece of paper on the counter. The cleaner soaking into it.

"With this?"

"Yes!"

"I've just about closed up shop... My pubs opening up in the back, and I can't have minors in here boys."

"For the sake of Mug's and my sanity, please just cash it real quick!"

"Well... I guess I can. I have nothing against that. Luckily you came just in time."

Cuphead and Mugman collabs down, leaning against each other.

"We did it..." Cup says, "now we're gonna be rich and have our own radio!"

Mugman can only smile hard.

"Oh no..." The owner says, disapproving the ticket. It is that moment Cup and Mug have their stomach on edge again.

"Wh-what's wrong?!"

"First," He says with tight vocals, "this ticket isn't even sold by me. This is one I've never seen before, so I can't accept it. Also it's already expired."

"Expired?!" Mugman shrinks into caterpillar, "B-but I read it and--."

"No, it says it expired the thirteenth of april of 1913. Not 1933."

He doesn't have to look at Cuphead to know the lasers blasting him.

"Sorry, boys, but I need you to leave before a copper sees ya. I can't be in trouble with 'em again, 'kay?"

--E--

Soda-'ess and radio-less, let alone coinless, the brothers mope home. Dragging their boots and kick dirt to the side of the road. The strangers from before know something happened and give them concerned looks. From ecstatic to depressed. It is beyond obvious.

"Gosh, I thought we had it." Mugman complains, not bothering to fix his drooping overall strap.

Cuphead can only frown hard.

The Root Pack isn't in their garden once they got home. The farm closed up half an hour ago, since the boys took longer going home than cashing the ticket in. But now to go home. Minutes later, knocking on the door, Elder Kettle meets them at the door.

"There you boys are!" He whistles steam, "You two were supposed to be here two hours ago for chores!"

"Wh-what?"

"I told you both that before you went off for the day! I told you three times! Three!"

"Sorry..." They both said. "But we were--."

"No buts," He cools the steam from his head, "I'm not mad, just disappointed... but hurry! I have company coming over in less than an hour and your chores haven't been done yet! Get crackin'! You know I cannot have a dirty house with guests over!"

Sweeping and dusting, the cups had that and no fritter or ice cream.

--E--

Thanks for reading! Please leave reviews! If you have any one-shot ideas you'd like me to do, just ask! Or maybe a collab?

Have a golly good day!